“Overwhelming,” Noah interjects.

“Yes,” I say. “Overwhelming.”

Ms. Chancellor crosses her arms, file folders pulled tightly against her chest. “I see.”

Noah moves forward. “So I was telling Grace about the directory. I thought that she could take a look at that — maybe memorize a few names and faces and then —”

Ms. Chancellor spins and starts back up the stairs, Noah chasing after her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Noah.”

“I know you keep a book. A file. Something with pictures and names and job titles and the lowdown on all the players. Come on, Ms. C. I know you have something like that.”

“You know no such thing,” she tells him.

“Then you’d be the only embassy on the row that doesn’t have one.” It’s a good point, and I can tell by the look on Ms. Chancellor’s face that he’s got her.

“Come on, Ms. Chancellor,” Noah says, easing closer to the place where she now stands at the top of the stairs. “Tell me, would you rather have Grace getting her information off the street? Or here, in the safety of her own home?”

Ms. Chancellor looks between us, a slight crinkle in her brow. We amuse her, I realize. Up until my arrival, her job was probably all conference calls and paperwork.

“Actually, Noah, I prefer Grace get all of her information from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go drop these files off in my office and then go have tea with your mother, Noah. Grace, I’m sure everything is going to be fine. And that, right now, is the best I can offer.”

She starts to walk away but turns back, eyes me over the top of her glasses. It’s like looking at Clark Kent and getting a glimpse of Superman. I’m almost sure she sees through me.

“Are you certain you’re feeling okay today, Grace?”

I smile.

I lie.

“I’m great.”

The sun is lower when Noah and I step into the courtyard.

“So what’s Plan B?” I ask him.

“Wait,” Noah says. “I was supposed to come up with a Plan B? I don’t have a Plan B. I mean, I guess I could just start randomly going up to strangers, asking if they’ve seen a big, scary guy with a scar on his cheek. I’m assuming he’s big and scary. I didn’t really ask about that part.”

Noah rambles when he’s nervous. It’s one of many things I’m starting to figure out about him.

“Can you get the directory from Israel or Brazil?” I ask.

Noah shakes his head. “I doubt it. I don’t have that kind of access.”

“They’d have a guest list for last night inside the palace, right?” I say. “Invitations, security checks? Everyone went through a metal detector. There have to be cameras. Facial-recognition software. They have to have that, don’t they?”

Noah looks at me like maybe I’m off my meds. Which I am. But that is totally beside the point. “I guess so.”

“Well, who do we know at the palace?”

“Who do we know at the palace?” Noah can’t help himself; he laughs a little. “Correction. Who do we know who would hand over classified security footage and facial-recognition results? Well, there’s got to be a super long list. Hey, the king seems like a good guy. I bet we can call him up and ask for a favor.”

“Well, we’ve got to do something! Can we hack the palace’s computer server?”

“Of course!” Noah actually hits his forehead with his palm. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll get right on it.”

“What about the embassy’s servers?”

“Who are you?!” Noah cries, like I’m morphing right in front of his eyes. He doesn’t know this version of me has been around since the cradle. “More importantly, who do you think I am?”

Poor Noah. All he wanted to do today was go see his dad, and look at what I’ve done. I’ve tried to turn him into an international hacker and all-around spy.

Man, I find myself thinking, I wish I knew a spy.

I hear the gate behind me open, and soon Megan is coming toward us. She’s in pink shorts. A pink top. There is even a pink headband keeping her glossy black bangs out of her eyes while her glossy black ponytail swings back and forth, keeping time. She’s been for a jog, and her dark skin has a glow that is … well … pink.

For a second, I think Noah might actually gag on his own tongue.

“What are you two talking about?” Megan asks.

“Nothing,” I say, just as Noah blurts, “Hi, Megan!”

It’s like he’s just worked up the nerve to talk and now the words come rolling out. “You look … sweaty. But in a good way. The good sweaty, is what I mean.”

“Thanks,” Megan says, the word clipped, like she’s not exactly certain what to make of either the compliment or the boy who’s given it.

I expect her to walk inside, to roll her eyes and go do whatever it is that popular, beautiful people do. But Megan just stands there, arms crossed, looking at me.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re up to or not?” she asks finally.

“Not,” I say. Not because I’m worried that she’ll tell someone. I’m worried she’ll tell everyone.

“That’s too bad,” Megan says, pushing past us. “I thought I heard you trying to figure out how to hack into the palace’s mainframe.”

“That’s what you get for thinking,” I say with a shrug. “I hear it can give you breakouts. Nasty business. Best to avoid it altogether.”

And then Megan turns on me.

“I never did anything to you, Grace! I never did anything at all. I’ve been trying to be your friend since we were six years old, but I’m not good enough for you, I guess. I’ve never been good enough for you. Well this is me, deciding to stop trying.”

I’m still reeling from her words when she spins and starts toward the door. She’s almost inside when Noah calls out “Wait!” and she actually does.

Noah seems as surprised by this as I am. When she looks at him, his cheeks turn red and he starts to talk too quickly.

“It’s just that we’re looking for this guy and we know he was at the party at the palace last night, but we don’t have any way of finding him and —”